Genesis
by Mummyluvr
Summary: Sequel to Empire. It’s been two months since Dean discovered he was truly loved. He’s finally got something all to himself, and the chance to keep it, just as long as Sam never… crap. Dean/Castiel, Sam/Ruby.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Genesis

**Summary:** Sequel to Empire. It's been two months since Dean discovered he was truly loved. He's finally got something all to himself, and the chance to keep it, just as long as Sam never… crap. Dean/Castiel, Sam/Ruby.

**Pairings:** Dean/Castiel, Sam/Ruby

**Rating:** R

**A/N:** Probably the final story in what I've come to call the "Chapter and Verse" 'verse (clever, no?). You should probably read the other ones first.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters or the show, though I might as well, with all the references to my fics I've seen on the darn thing!

* * *

Genesis

He waited for her. He would wait forever. For her, for the way she made him feel. Like he was something special, something pure. Not tainted. Worthy of love.

She promised not to leave. He wouldn't let her, would keep her bound to the body of the girl she'd found back when he'd needed someone, _anyone_ to talk to.

The bathroom door opened and she appeared, brown hair shimmering in the dim motel lighting, dark eyes looking black as the night. Her thin lips curled into a smile as she sauntered over to the bed.

"Hey, Sammy."

He smiled back. "Ruby." He laid back, let her straddle him, her hair falling across her stolen face. "You look nice tonight."

She smirked. "As opposed to every other night?" She leaned forward before he could explain, before he could express the way he'd started to feel in Dean's absence, the need for familiarity, for comfort.

Her lips met his, her breath seeping into his mouth, and he let his eyes flutter shut. He hadn't known that he'd needed this, not until she'd shown him, until their first time together.

These were the moments when nothing mattered, when all the world went away and hurt didn't exist. He could let himself stop worrying, let his mind wander to happier times.

Dean had been back for nearly two months. It had been nearly two months since Sam had walked in on his brother and the so-called angel. Dean claimed to have let it go, but the damned thing still turned up from time to time with news of the coming apocalypse when Sam wasn't around. Those were the nights that Sammy rented out his own room and summoned Ruby, brought her to him, made the hurt go away.

Hell had changed his brother. It had made him desperate and sloppy and needy. It had made him do things that Sam knew went against Dean's very nature. His brother wasn't controlling like that. His brother was passive when it came to matters of family and the heart.

But things were slowly getting back to normal. _Dean_ was getting back to normal. That was all Sam could ask for.

"Is that what you think?" Ruby asked, looming over him, hands wrapped around behind his neck, fisting in his long hair. She said she liked it that length, made it easier to move him, control him, make him moan for her.

"You readin' my mind?" he asked, not altogether certain that he disliked the notion. It would certainly add a new dimension to their relationship.

She smiled, her eyes going black, and he barely suppressed a shudder. "All I'm saying," she whispered, "is that you might not be the only one _fucking_ around behind your brother's back."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she said, her voice soft and deadly, her lips centimeters from his ear, hot breath blowing over his shaggy hair, "he's doing exactly what we are, just the opposite." She leaned back again, eyes searching his face, appraising him, waiting for him to get it. Those dark, deep, oily eyes.

And suddenly, he knew exactly what she was saying.

He shoved Ruby off his body and leapt from the bed, barely taking the time to struggle back into his jeans before running out the door and to the car he'd borrowed for the night.

-.-

"You're beautiful."

Horrible, blasphemous things. He was used to horrible, blasphemous things. This was somehow worse. Worse because it wasn't just a screech of raw emotion, of need and want and hunger. It was a lie. It was a lie that was supposedly unable to be told, and that was what worried him.

"You're worthy."

Hand around him, gripping, pulling, feeling so good. A slight push in the back of his head, and he was worried about something else for half a second, worried that maybe his secret doubts had been revealed.

"_Amazing_."

Warm breath puffed onto his chest and he lost all conscious train of thought. There was no more wondering about where Sam was and when he might be back, no more thoughts of tests and falling and secrets and lies. There were only two bodies in a bed.

"I love you."

That one would never get old. It was better than any proclamation of size, any sleazy phrase he'd ever heard uttered so close to the edge.

"I will never leave you."

Whispered in his ear with one final pull and he was done. They both were. Like the angel got off on him getting off. On him being happy, blissed out, finally feeling like he belonged. And hey, for all Dean knew, maybe he did. Guy was kind of a freak.

The two bodies disentangled, rolling away from each other but staying close enough to touch, skin-on-skin, brand-on-perfection. Dean turned his head to look at his companion. "So, these Seals…"

Cass let out an exasperated sigh. "Shut up."

And that was a new one. "Well, look who's been paying attention when I talk."

"You corrupt absolutely."

It was still weird, seeing the angel smile. Almost like the expression didn't fit, like he was supposed to be serious at all times, and Dean had loosened him up, had changed him, had _corrupted_ him. Like Dean had taken him and tainted him and then let him go. And like a dog that's been kicked, he just came back for more. Not that anyone was complaining.

The hunter opened his mouth, ready with a comeback, but was cut off as Castiel sat up, body stiff and rigid.

"What is it?" Dean asked. He pushed himself up until he was sitting, eyes wide, scanning the darkness for any sign of a threat. There was nothing, only the still silence and flickering shadows as a car drove by outside.

"I need to leave," Castiel said. "Now."

He started to get up, but Dean grabbed his wrist. "No." His eyes flickered to the empty bed, _Sam's_ bed. He wasn't spending the night alone. Not after hearing those lustful promises not even five minutes before. He pulled the angel back down beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Stay."

"You-"

The sound of a key in the door, of tumblers falling back, of wood scraping against wood. And then the door was open and Sam was standing there, staring at them, his eyes wide and angry, mouth drawn into a thin line, jeans hanging loose and unfastened around his hips, and Dean barely had time to wonder why that was before his brother started yelling.

"What the _Hell_, Dean?"

"Funny you should mention Hell," the older man muttered, his arm slipping from its spot around Castiel's waist, hand sliding to the bed, fingers splayed. The angel's hand was on the small of his back in an instant, offering what little comfort he could out of Sam's line of sight.

"Don't be cute with me, Dean."

"I'm cute with everyone."

Sam's face curved down into a snarl. "Tell me the truth."

"It's complicated," Dean said slowly, his eyes falling to the ground as his brother slammed the door and properly entered the room.

"It's not complicated," Sam ground out. "It seems pretty simple from where I'm standing. I told you to let him go, and you didn't. I can't believe you could do this to someone. There's a person in there, there's a guy-"

"Thomas is dead," Cass interjected, "and Dean has done nothing wrong. He let me go."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, right. Then why are you still here?"

"Because I love him."

The psychic rolled his eyes. "You don't love him. You just do what he tells you, think what he tells you, feel what he tells you." He crossed the room and began throwing things into his backpack. "I don't want to have anything to do with it."

Dean found his voice, brought it crashing through the shock and fear that came with being discovered after two very sneaky months. "He's telling the truth. I let him go."

"You be quiet," Sam commanded.

"Don't leave." The hand on his back fisted, fingernails dragging lightly across tanned skin in response to the shake in his voice. He shuddered. "Please."

"I gave you a choice, Dean," the younger man reminded him. "You've obviously made it." He zipped up his backpack and was gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

Hunter and angel sat in silence for a moment, both staring at the door. Outside the room, the Impala's engine growled to life. Neither of them had seen Sam swipe the keys, but it didn't matter.

"He's gone," Dean whispered. "He's really gone."

"I'll get him back," Castiel promised, brushing his hand up Dean's back and sending him down into a dreamless sleep.

-.-

Sam was sitting in a park, at the bottom of the slide, his knees sticking up by his chin, face turned up into the cool night wind. That was the second time he'd walked in on his brother and the thing that claimed to have been sent from God. There was nothing holy about what they'd been doing.

He stared up at the sky and sighed. He'd been willing to overlook it the first time, had been willing to let it slide. Dean was back. That was all that mattered. Dean was back, and he was safe and he was whole and he was not in Hell. Gay, apparently, but not in Hell. Sam was willing to drop it.

Dean hadn't dropped it. Dean had gone behind his back, had done a very un-Dean-like thing, and now Sam was doubting if his brother had really come back whole. He seemed fine in every other way, but…

A soft rustling reached his ears and he was immediately on alert. His whole body stiffened, eyes scanning the shadowy playground for any hints of a threat. What he saw was somehow worse than what he'd been expecting.

"What are you doing here?" Sam grunted, letting himself relax a bit as the angel walked across the park to stand beside him. He was dressed again, wearing what appeared to be one of Dean's old shirts and a pair of jeans that had probably once belonged to him as well.

"I came to talk to you," he replied, as if Sam were an idiot for not realizing that sooner. The tone of voice was surprisingly _Dean_ and only managed to make the mortal's rage flare.

"Really? You wanna talk to me? Get tired of letting Dean in on the secrets of the universe?"

Castiel sighed. "If I had appeared to both of you to divulge the information I was given, how would you have reacted?"

"Every time you get something new," Sam said, ignoring the question, "every time you have news for him, that's what you end up doing, isn't it? Fucking each others' brains out in my motel room?"

He could have sworn the thing smirked at him, but the expression was gone in an instant. "Business before pleasure."

Sam scowled, standing up. He wanted to be on a level field with this thing, wanted to look it in the eyes when he made his accusations. "You're using him."

"I'm doing no such thing."

"Like Hell. You tell him to stop the Apocalypse and then you feed him some crap line about love and togetherness and it makes me sick. He might be dumb enough to fall for it, but I won't."

Something dangerous flashed in the angel's eyes, but Sam chose to ignore it. "I would never lie to your brother, Sam. I'm not using him. He has free will."

"Just like you, right?"

"Exactly."

"Then tell me something. Just how did that come about? Because I'm still a little shady on the details here."

Castiel glared at him, as if daring him to pry more. "He raped me."

Sam sat back down. It wasn't a graceful act, and if he'd been watching from the outside of the conversation, he probably would have called it more of a fall. Either way, his ass was back on the slide and he was looking up at the angel with wide, unbelieving eyes. "No."

"It wasn't his fault."

"He wouldn't-"

"It was mine."

"How?"

The angel sighed, running a hand through his ruffled hair. "I kissed him."

"You started it?"

"I had to show him God's love. I had to make him understand." He sighed again, shifting his gaze to his feet. "It was too much for him. I underestimated how long he'd been out in the cold."

"So he raped you?"

Cass shook his head. "He created a diversion. He's far from stupid, Sam. You just never took the time to notice."

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You kiss him and he rapes you and then you live happily ever after in love? That doesn't happen in the real world. It's sick and perverted and wrong."

"It is… more complicated than that," the angel said. "There's a verse at the end of the twenty-second chapter of Deuteronomy that outlines the retribution for a crime like your brother's. It states that the victim belongs to the person who commits the act."

Sam shook his head. "You can't take every word in the Bible literally."

"Try and stop me."

The hunter sighed. "So you belonged to him, and he used you, and that's where I come in. Doesn't make it right."

"The whole ordeal was ordained."

"Why?" Sam asked. "Because there was a verse about it in the Bible? Hate to break it to you, Cass, but that's one of the ways they justified slavery." He caught the odd look the angel was giving him. "Like, _actual_ slavery. Whips and chains and plantations. Bad stuff."

"I know what you're referring to. I cannot be held responsible for the actions of a few selfish mortals. I was given my information from higher up than a Book." He paused, appraising Sam with those sharp eyes, eyes that looked into his soul. "Only Dean can call me that."

Sam dropped his eyes again, unnerved. "Fine. Only Dean. That still doesn't justify what he's doing."

"He's not doing anything anymore. He let me go."

"Kind of hard to believe."

"Why?" the angel asked. "Why is it so hard to believe that someone would be capable of loving your brother for more than one night? Do you really think that little of him? Do you really sit there and ask me these things and wonder why he did the things he did in search of love? I thought you were supposed to be the intelligent one, Sam."

Eyes still down, Sam didn't answered, just rubbed at the back of his neck.

"I love him," Castiel continued, "because of what he's done. He's proven himself faithful beyond all doubt. Beyond all reason, even. He gave up his own happiness so that you wouldn't leave, and he let me go. And yet here we are. Why is that, Sam?"

"You left him, too, if you're here."

"He's sleeping."

The hunter finally looked back up. "Still doesn't make it right. Still doesn't change what he did or the fact that he got _rewarded_ for it. And, come to think of it, what does the guy you're riding around in think about all of this?"

"I told you," Castiel said. "He's dead. Dean already asked." He cocked his head to one side, inspecting Sam with those deep eyes again. "Now you tell me. What's Ruby's excuse?"

* * *

So, part 2 tomorrow?


	2. Chapter 2

Well, here you go. Part 2. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Sam was running, stumbling over his own feet, across the park before he even knew that he had stood up. There was no way that thing had known, no way he'd been discovered, no way.

He slid into the Impala and locked the doors, panting hard. He would go back to Ruby, would ask her about what the angel had said, would tell her they'd been discovered. He would call it off.

He couldn't dream of that. Somehow, Ruby was the only one who made sense anymore. She was the one constant thing in his life. She was-

"It was back here."

Sam jumped and spun in the seat to see the angel sitting in the backseat of the car, still staring at him. He had a very distinct feeling that he didn't want to know what the creature was talking about.

"Get out."

"I like the smell of leather."

"I'll go back," Sam offered.

"To Ruby, or to Dean?"

"Dean. I'll go back to Dean."

The angel narrowed his eyes. "You are afraid that he's changed?"

"What?" He tried not to let the shock of apparently having his mind read show on his face. He'd been thinking exactly that, ever since Dean had come back.

"You should know, Sam," Castiel said, his voice and eyes softening as he leaned forward in the seat, "that he's the same person he always was. We made sure of that."

"What do you mean?" Sam, asked, turning farther around to get a better look at the creature in the car with him.

The angel actually looked embarrassed. "You can't tell your brother. He might not understand."

"Understand what?"

"The things that happened between us originally were… I didn't lie to him. I told him they had ordained. It was God's Will."

"You were testing him," Sam said, fitting the pieces together in his mind. "You weren't doing it for him, you were doing it to _test_ him."

Castiel nodded. "Hell is… well, Hell is like Hell. It strips away humanity, leaves an empty shell of the former self. We needed to see how broken Dean truly was, to see if he would take the bait. Then we had to fix him."

"By loving him."

"By giving him something for his troubles. Giving him me."

Sam nodded. "It really was God's Will, then."

"Only until he realized that he could be loved. I had orders. I had to see if Dean was still Dean. I had to find out if he would still put all others before himself. I asked for my freedom after you talked to him, Sam, and he granted it."

"So he's still him?" He knew he should have been mad, should have yelled and screamed and called his brother. After all, Dean had been tricked, had been used, had been taken advantage of. But he was still Dean. Wasn't that what really mattered?

"Yes. He's still the man you remember."

"Then why are you still here?"

Castiel seemed to steel himself, square his shoulders, clench his jaw. It was another technique that Dean used often, something that looked foreign and wrong on the shorter man. "I fell in love."

Sam blinked. "You really think-"

"I know. I'm in love with your brother. He shines, Sam, like nothing I've ever encountered on this plane. His soul screams at me, his eyes plead. He needs love. He needs someone honest and true and right and good. He believes that with all of his heart, and he can't see that he is the same. He can't see how truly amazing he is."

"And that's why you love him?"

"He doesn't know his own worth. I want to show it to him. And he makes me feel… I don't know. _Safe_. He exudes a sense of safety. Have you felt it?"

Sam had. He just wasn't ready to admit it to this being. "So, what, God's just gonna let you have a cute little gay affair with my brother, fix him up all nice and dandy, and then leave his ass when the Apocalypse is over?"

The angel narrowed his eyes, and Sam was suddenly scared. For just a moment, he'd forgotten exactly _what_ he'd been talking to. Then the angel smiled, bright and beaming. "You truly are Dean's brother." The smile dropped off his face. "No. God is not going to permit this."

He thought he understood immediately, but wished and hoped and prayed that he was wrong, because he couldn't watch Dean get hurt again. Not again. Not by something that was supposed to be good. "What do you mean?"

"You know. My orders were to test your brother, to see if he could be fixed, to fix him, and then to ask for release. I was never really under his control, Sam. I was just told to follow his orders. There's a difference. But when he set me free, I made a choice. We are allowed some free will, you know. I chose him."

"You Fell." Like Sam's heart in his chest, far and fast and hard. Like his stomach, dropping out from beneath him.

"It isn't as bad as they say."

"You Fell from Grace," Sam said, looking at the creature in backseat in a new light. "For _Dean_."

"I fell in love."

"You're no better than a demon."

The blue eyes softened, hurt, and tore from his. "There is a difference between-"

"Then what was Azazel? What's Lucifer? Weren't they angels once?"

The former angel sighed, meeting his eyes again. "Please. You can't tell Dean."

Sam spun around and jammed the keys into the ignition and turned them hard. "Like Hell," he muttered. When he looked up into the rearview mirror, Castiel was gone.

-.-

Sam wasn't surprised to find that the fallen angel had arrived at the motel first and was sitting at the small table in the corner, hands folded in front of him as if in prayer. It was the lack of his brother that shocked him. "Where is he?"

Castiel looked up at him with those eyes, wide and sad and forgiving. "He's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?" Sam demanded. "What did you do to him?"

The demon sighed. "I did nothing. I came back, hoping to head you off, and he was gone. He left this, though." He pushed a torn piece of notebook paper across the table toward Sam, who took it.

There was one line of text scrawled across it in his brother's hand: _Gen 42:15-16_.

That didn't make sense. It couldn't have been written by Dean, not if it was what Sam thought it was. "What's it mean?"

"He did what I told him," Castiel said simply, a small smile playing across his face.

Sam pursed his lips and dropped the note back onto the table. He crossed to the bedside table and pulled the drawer open. He grabbed the Bible from its traditional place and began flipping through the pages, looking for the passage Dean had indicated. Apparently, though, he didn't need to.

"'And this is how you will be tested: As surely as Pharaoh lives, you will not leave this place unless your youngest brother comes here. Send one of your number to get your brother; the rest of you will be kept in prison, so that your words may be tested to see if you are telling the truth. If you are not, then as surely as Pharaoh lives, you are spies.'"

Sam turned at the sound of the angel's voice. "But what does it mean?"

Castiel shrugged, his body sagging, something akin to sadness flashing behind his eyes. "I don't know."

"Thought you were supposed to know these things."

"I know the verse, Sam. Not the way your brother wished it to be interpreted. I'm just as clueless as you are right now."

Sam sighed and dropped the Bible back into the drawer. "What do you suggest we do?"

"You're asking me for help? Five seconds ago, I was the enemy." He stood, smoothing the wrinkles out of Dean's old shirt. "I suggest we split up and look for him. You had the car, so he couldn't have gotten too far. I doubt he'd have stolen anything that was out in the lot." He smirked, again so briefly that Sam might have imagined it. "Where do you think he would go?"

"Bar," Sam said without hesitation. "There's one on Fourth and another on Main."

Cass nodded. "I'll check the one on Main Street. We'll meet up back here in an hour and a half, all right?"

As much as he hated the idea of working with something that was no better than what he hunted, he knew Castiel had a point. It was the fastest way to find Dean, and there were no better options. "Yeah. All right." Against his better judgement, he turned his back on the angel.

-.-

He stood on Seventh Street, neck craned, looking up at the imposing brick building with the small cross mounted on top. Dean wasn't in a bar, wasn't on Main or Fourth. He was in the church, waiting to be found. He could feel it with every fiber of his being.

He wanted to go to him, to console him, to assure him that he'd gotten the message, that he was still the same… _being_ that he had been since the beginning. Nothing had changed. The warmth that they'd both felt in that first encounter still lingered, and that was what mattered.

Gulping back his fear and uncertainty at what might happen to him, Castiel reached out a tentative hand toward the front door of the church. His fingers brushed against the brass handle and he tensed, waiting for the inevitable lightning strike. Nothing happened.

He wrapped his fingers tightly around the handle and pulled, flinching this time. Again, nothing happened. He walked through the doorway, one step at a time. He didn't fall dead. He would have said a silent prayer of thanks, but figured that would be frowned upon more than walking into the holy place. He hadn't gone that far just to be struck down by an old habit that died hard.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of Dean's old jeans, Castiel walked farther into the church, boots clunking across the stone floor of the entryway and undoubtedly announcing his presence.

He opened another set of doors and found himself in the chapel, staring at two rows of large pews. There was only one other person present in the church, and he'd been right about that man's identity.

He walked down the aisle and slid into the pew beside his charge. "Hello, Dean."

"How'd you get in here?" Dean asked, hands folded in front of him, head bent low.

Castiel sighed, trying to hide the fear that had been bubbling underneath his usually calm exterior since he'd found the note in the motel room. "How long have you known?"

Dean smirked. "Knew you'd figure it out."

"How long?"

"Does it matter?"

He swallowed hard, unable to keep the slight waiver out of his voice. "Are you going to leave now?"

The hunter's head finally popped up, eyes wide. "What? Why would you ask me that?"

"You know what I am. You know what Azazel and Lucifer were, what they are now-"

"But you're not them," Dean said, settling back in the pew, stretching an arm around behind Castiel's back, the softest touch exciting nerves the angel hadn't even known he'd had before meeting the man. "And I trust you."

"Then why leave the verse?"

"No more secrets, Cass. I've had enough of 'em in my life to know they're no good. So, honesty from now on, ok? No matter what you are, no matter what you've done."

He nodded, relieved. He had been left with nothing but a few merciful friends in high places that were willing to give him scraps of information to feed the brothers and keep suspicion low in exchange for errands. And they weren't even a sure thing. There was only Dean, only a few nights a week of pure mortal bliss and the chance to fix a person who had thought himself beyond repair.

"No matter what," he said, putting as much conviction into the words as possible. No more secrets, no more lies, no more half-truths. Just the two of them, neither to be alone again.

They sat in silence, watching as the patterns thrown buy the stained glass shifted as clouds drifted over the sun. Dean tightened his grip, pulling his lover closer, and Cass leaned into the touch. It was peaceful in old church.

"So," Dean muttered, breaking the silence. "Pretty smart, huh?"

"What?"

"The note. You got it, right?"

Castiel smiled. "Yes, Dean. I got it. You're very intelligent."

"Can't hear that enough." He leaned back, sliding his feet under the pew in front of them. "So, it was a test at first, right? I mean, I thought afterwards it might have been, but…"

"It was a test, and you passed. I failed. Nice hint, by the way, at both of those. I especially like the part where you compared me to a spy. And bonus points for tying your brother into it."

Dean flinched. "He's not too mad, is he?"

"He'll learn to deal with it."

A pause. More colors- reds and yellows and blues- flickering across the floor, bathing the chapel in an ethereal light show. "You didn't fail, Cass." A tightening of the arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Warm breath whispering through his hair, sending chills of pleasure down his spine. "You passed."

Castiel's eyes slid shut. Dean had told him before of the warmth that he felt when they were together, the sense of belonging, the happiness that rose from within. The truth was, Cass had felt the same thing from the time he had first touched Dean, had felt it multiplied when they had kissed. It had scared him, disgusted him. It was forbidden, a sin. It was a failure.

Except that it wasn't. Dean was right. It should have felt wrong, but it didn't. It hadn't felt like a failure when they'd laid together in the backseat of the car, or when they'd sat on that swing. It had felt right when he'd been pinned to the wall, surrounded by Dean, by warmth and happiness and longing and love. It had felt right, so it couldn't be wrong.

"Are we cuddling in a church?" he asked. His world may have been flipped on its head in recent months, his sense of right and wrong changed significantly, but he still knew the basics.

"We're not cuddling," Dean corrected, mouth at his ear. "I'm _this close _to manhandling."

Castiel pulled away, out of Dean's grip. "Not in a church."

"Well, Sammy might find us in the room, and we've already toured the car…"

"You're horrible." He stood up, straightening his shirt and glaring back at Dean. "We should leave before we get struck by lightning."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "They still do that?"

"More often than you might think." Cass held out his hand. "Come on."

He hunter smiled and took the proffered hand, using it to pull himself up off the pew. He didn't let go. Neither did Cass. They set off for the door together, shoulders close, fingers intertwined, both stupidly warm and happy.

That was when the priest appeared.

He was standing in the doorway, blocking their exit, watching them both with mild amusement. Dean dropped his hand and backed away first, not as ruffled by getting caught as his companion.

"Hey, Padre," he said, flashing a smile at the priest. He cleared his throat. "Can we, uh…?"

The priest turned his gaze to Castiel and smiled. "You're wrong," he said.

Cass took a small step back. "I'm sorry?"

The priest shook his head. "Not in the way you think. I would never judge something as pure as love, brother." Something flashed across the man's eyes, and it was as if a veil had been lifted. He was instantly recognizable to the angel.

"Michael."

The priest smiled at the renewed fear coursing through his system. He had done something horrific if they had sent Michael after him, something that required the most extreme form of punishment, an eternity in Hell.

"Be not afraid."

Dean snorted. "Easy for you to say." So he had seen it, too.

"You must be Dean," Michael said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Funny, I imagined you to be taller."

"What do you want?" the hunter demanded, and Castiel flinched. If they hadn't been headed straight to Hell before, they certainly were now.

"To clear the air and straighten out the facts," the archangel explained calmly. "You are wrong, not in your actions, but in your beliefs."

"What do you mean?" Cass asked. He was too frightened by the appearance of the angel to hope, to expect mercy, to do much more than hover protectively closer to Dean, eventually coming to stand between his former brother and his human lover.

Michael sighed. "Relax, Castiel. I mean you no harm. I'm just acting as a messenger today."

"And what message are you delivering?"

The smile came back. "One of your salvation."

He could feel Dean slink back behind him, could feel a jolt of pain he knew wasn't his own, a fear he'd become quite accustomed to in the past two months. "I'm not going back."

Michael's smile faltered. "You don't understand me, brother. But I am surprised. You would give up the glory of Heaven for the sins of the flesh?"

"Love is not a sin."

"Sodomy is."

Castiel reached behind his back and took Dean's hand in his own. "I've made my choice. I'm staying."

The smile was back in full force, shining with superiority. "I knew you wouldn't understand."

"I told you-"

"You have no idea what has truly happened to you," Michael said.

"I Fell."

"In love, yes. But not from Grace."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I mean, he has doubted our Father for some time, has worried over orders, and questioned things that should not have been questioned. For this, he was punished."

"But he didn't Fall?"

"No. he was given a job that no one else would have taken. He was sent into Hell."

Dean peeked around Castiel's shoulder, his eyes wide. "No one wanted to get me out?"

"I was commanded to," Cass replied, "I didn't know."

"After that," Michael continued, "he was watched. Closely. You both were." He turned to Dean. "You were tested, and we realized that we could save him."

"Save him from what?" Dean asked.

"The inevitable. It always starts with questions and doubts. It leads to denial. To pride and blasphemy and darkness. We found a way to fix it."

Castiel nodded, finally understanding what was being said. "The second test wasn't a test at all, was it? It was the real thing. I was given to him."

"We knew he would do the right thing, and so would you." Michael gazed at them both for a moment, his eyes softening. "It was Ordained."

In a blink, he was gone.

"What's that mean?" Dean asked. "We're off the hook?"

"We were never on it," Cass said. "Or, at least, _I_ wasn't." His only reply was a confused stare. "It's better you not know." He started out of the church, pulling Dean along into the light of the rising sun.

"Yeah, but… we're cool? With the Big Guy?"

"Did you really expect Him to not know that this would happen?"

Dean stopped on the steps in front of the building and stared at him. "You're still an angel?"

"Technically, no."

"What are you?"

"In love."

"Dude." He wrenched his hand away. "No. Don't even. That's too sappy. Just explain to me how this is all right and we're not in Hell."

Castiel shrugged, smiling as he turned his face to the light of the sun. "Father knows best?"

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the other man by the arms, whirling him around until they were facing. "Come here." Cass let him take control. Technically, they weren't in a church, so it was fine, right? Right.

One hand found its way to the small of his back, the other staying put on his arm, keeping him firmly in place as lips met and warmth spread and everything was right. Sam might have been out drowning his sorrows in a bottle on Fourth Street, and it was possible that Ruby was waiting to pick up the pieces of the psychic once he shattered, but none of that mattered. What mattered was Dean and the things he was doing with his tongue. Everything else could wait.

* * *

The End. No. Really. I mean it this time. Seriously, you guys, I do :)

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


End file.
